To The Moon
by brynnamorgan
Summary: House and Wilson leave the employ of PPTH. Revenge! Smut! Desk defilement! Bare butts! Perverse use of lipstick! You have been warned! Rating for Language/Smut/etc.


Disclaimer: The only House and Wilson I own are two cats – named House and Wilson. Wilson cuddles next to me in bed every night and sometimes licks the tip of my nose. House likes to roll and drool all over my hand while I'm attempting to sleep. Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard do not figure in this equation.

It's a ficlet. Also, the first fic I have finished in three years. Writer's block is a bitch.

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_One of these days, Alice, pow! To the moon!- Ralph Kramden, __The Honeymooners_

_

* * *

_To The Moon

With his long legs stretched out on the sofa, House watched Wilson move from file cabinet to file cabinet, humming, sorting, shredding, and being his usual OCD overly-conscientious self. Still, the behavior was endearing, House admitted to himself, yawning in an exaggerated fashion designed to catch his partner's attention. A snort was all he got in return as Wilson continued to empty out his file cabinet.

"You know, Cuddy has a chain gang that will take care of this the second we're out the door."

"Of course. But why should they have all the fun?" The younger man didn't miss a beat as he closed the lid on one last box, and then wiped down the desktop with Orange Glo.

"Only you would rather clean than watch Cuddy crack her whip."

"Hmmm… sounds kinky. Tell you what." Wilson knelt to give the desk chair legs the same treatment as the top of the desk. "After I'm done here, I'll go on home and you can stay to watch Cuddy crack her whip in your office."

"I think I'll pass."

"I thought you would."

"There is one problem, though."

"Yeah?" Wilson walked over to the office door and motioned to the two maintenance men who had been waiting outside.

"Now my brain is stuck on kinky thoughts."

Both workers didn't miss a beat as they loaded Wilson's belongings next to his on the hand truck. If it hadn't been for a slight flush on Wilson's cheeks, House wouldn't have known that Wilson did in fact miss a beat.

"Now, that presents a problem." Wilson paused to hand each man a hundred dollar bill, then shook hands, murmuring about their families, wishing them well, all in fashion that House had only one response to – an eye roll. After they left with the hand truck House shook his head and lifted one brow mockingly.

"There's that caring again. I can smell it clear across the room. Tipping the janitors?"

"House?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Go have Thirteen make you a one last cup of shut-the-fuck-up."

"Now THAT sounds kinky."

"Which brings us back to your problem."

"My kinky thoughts?"

"Yeah."

Wilson advanced toward him and House repressed a grin. He knew that look. It was the same look that found House tied spread-eagled to the bed, or to a kitchen chair while he sucked Wilson off. It was a look that said, "I'm going to fuck you into the mattress." It was a look that got House hard within seconds.

Slowly House rose to his feet, only to find himself up against the wall, Wilson surrounding him with hot, hard body and the muskiness of arousal. _In front of the open door, no less,_ House marveled silently.

"I thought you said no hanky-panky in the workplace," he said hoarsely just before Wilson's lips tantalizingly brushed against his.

"I did," was Wilson's agreeable reply. "But…"

"This is no longer our workplace."

"Very good."

"Always am."

"At least where it counts." Wilson backed off, grasped House's hand and began walking towards the door, House thump-hop-limping behind him in an effort to keep up. "And right now we're going where it counts."

"Home?" House asked hopefully as he allowed himself to be dragged into the elevator.

"Here." The door swished open. This time House backed up out of Wilson's reach, then pointed with his cane to the open lobby.

"I think I'm capable of following without requiring a tow." At Wilson's frown he rolled his eyes and extended his hand. "No dragging the cripple. Got it?"

"Shoulda used a gag," Wilson muttered, slowing his pace as he led House across the main floor.

"But why…" House stopped in his tracks in realization. "Wait, you want…"

Everybody, from doctors and nurses to small children to bigger adults, had paused to stare at them. _That little shit_. _He wants them to see what he's up to._

"Come on, House." A glint of mischief flickered in Wilson's eyes as he resumed a brisk stride, straight towards the large office alongside the lobby. An office that was, fortunately, completely dark. "Here, you know how to break in."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"Oh, it will be, I'm sure." As House bent over to pick the lock he felt Wilson's fingertips glide along the curve of his behind. "Christ, Wilson!" he gasped out, groaning at the dark chuckle he received in return. "Horny, much?

"Much."

As soon as he had gotten the door unlocked, House let Wilson manhandle him through the door and over to the wide desk occupying most of one side of the room.

"I would have thought," House paused as Wilson pushed him face down over Cuddy's desk, "I would have thought… Christ… that … dear God, Wilson… that… we might have mooned the lobby on our way out but… oh fuck…" Wilson reached around, unzipped House's fly, and tunneled his way in to retrieve his hard cock, stroking House's voice into a low moan. "Never mind, fuck it."

"Exactly what I had in mind."

"Why… here?"

"I don't like the way she treated you."

"Well, Sam wasn't… exactly nice to you, either."

"She was… okay. At least until she caught us on the sofa."

"Perfect timing strikes again."

"I knew it! You set me up!" Wilson was pausing, fumbling, then swore softly. "Fuck."

"What?"

"No lube."

"Some Boy Scout you would have made. Well, there's always spit."

"Or…"

They both saw the tube of lipstick off to one side of the desk at the same time. Wilson beat House to the punch and had the cap off before House could wrap his head around the fact that, yes, Wilson was about to use Cuddy's lipstick in his ass.

"Think she'll… notice… God… hey, that's not bad…"

"Think I give a rat's ass?"

"No, but you give my ass, obviously. I'll be shitting red for days."

"Worth it?" Wilson's cock slid into him and he groaned again. Loudly.

"Hell, yeah." This party wasn't going to last long, especially with Wilson's now-red-stained hand stroking up and down his cock to the rhythm of sliding in and out of him_._ House turned his head and Wilson's mouth slammed down on his, his tongue thrusting in that same hot rhythm. A few more thrusts, more pounding, then stars swirling around in his head as Wilson hit that spot perfectly. House cried out, then Wilson, and it was over.

Shuddering, House let his lover help him get his jeans back up and zipped, then as an afterthought, looked down at desk top. There, in a mixture of come, lip-sticked handprints from Wilson having braced himself on the desk, the lipstick tube itself, and what appeared to be a day's worth of reports, lay the evidence. They'd gotten off – in Cuddy's office, no less.

House picked up the lipstick and signed the desk with a flourish. Wilson scribbled his signature after him, then dropped the lipstick back into the mess.

"I think we'd better bail out of here." House finished tucking himself in and reached for his cane, then turned to take in the site of Wilson. The other doctor was rumpled, lipstick all over his belt and where he'd attempted to tuck in his shirt. Wilson was also grinning from ear-to-ear.

Cuddy's assistant ran up to them from across the hall, and when they saw the demon, they knew the Devil herself couldn't be far behind. "Doctor House! Doctor Wilson! Wait, you can't leave until you have your exit interviews," the woman called out to them, jumping back as House used his cane to push her aside.

"I think we just gave our exit interviews," was Wilson's cheerful response as they hurried towards the door.

"Halt! Where do you two think you're going?"

"Cuddy," House muttered, not turning around at the click of high heels approaching them from behind. They had almost made it to the door. _Damn_. He looked over at Wilson, all hot and sweaty and rumpled, red lipstick everywhere, and grinned. Wilson returned the grin and nodded.

"On a count of three?" Wilson whispered.

"Uh, huh."

"One."

"What the hell? Why is my office door open? What were you two…"

"Two."

"House, what have you been up to?

"Three."

Both unzipped their pants in time, pulled them, along with their undershorts, down to their knees, then bent over to reveal exactly what they were thinking. They heard Cuddy's gasp, sounds of items hitting the floor, at least one sound of glass breaking, and then, laughter. From the sounds of it, that was Brenda giggling, and unless House was mistaken, he heard Chase guffaw even more loudly than House had been when he came all over Cuddy's desk.

"Okay, everybody, show's over, back to work!" Cuddy's voice sounded like a tired, embarrassed squeak. "You two, in my office, NOW."

They pulled their pants up, and began walking towards the door. Moments later there was another screech, then "Oh, my fucking HELL!" House couldn't resist, and turned to look back as Cuddy emerged from her office, face red with rage, murder in her eyes.

"Still want that exit interview, Cuddy?" House shouted as Wilson yanked on his hand again and pulled him out of the lobby, towards the parking lot and out of their former boss's and his ex-girlfriend's life forever.


End file.
